


Wishful Thinking

by hotpotato1



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, Mentions of Suicide, and his mind spirals, he misses his friends, its never explicitly stated but super heavily implied, no beta we die like men, nothing happens thou, sad Tommy, that scene by the lava and the portal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27931261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotpotato1/pseuds/hotpotato1
Summary: As the world crumbles around Tommy, his mental health spirals. I just wanted to write angst so here it is.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 76





	Wishful Thinking

**Author's Note:**

> If you didn't see it in the tags, there is really heavily implied references to suicide here. Nothing happens and its never explicitly stated, but tread carefully, and take care of yourself <3

Tommy stared down at the lava bubbling beneath his sneakers. Behind him his “friends” joked about the beauty of L’Manberg preparing for Christmas. As Wilbur mentioned they had added a tree, Tommy couldn’t get the image of Wilbur’s lanterns out of his mind. Just days ago as he had run from the city fearing death their lights had been the only thing visible above the obsidian walls. Dream’s obsidian walls. Dream who was right behind him emphasizing that he would never see his home again.

He blinked and refocused on the heat nearly melting the soles of his shoes. All it took was one wrong step and he could forget about all this. After all ghosts only remembered happy memories. It would be so easy to make it look like a mistake, to accidentally place gravel instead of cobble or miss a jump that he should have made and plummet into the open arms of the center of the earth. 

No one was left to think too carefully about his actions or to care if he slipped up. Everyone he cared about he had left in L’Manburg, but then again they clearly didn’t care about him. He had trusted Tubbo with his life and it got him nowhere. They were best friends, but when Tommy had brought up the physical manifestation of their friendship, their disks, Tubbo had brushed him off as if he were a child. How could he miss someone so dearly who had called him selfish for trying to preserve the final reminder of their life pre-war. 

Tubbo had called him a lot of things before he had exiled him. Tubbo had called him Wilbur. Tommy had watched his older brother descend into rash decisions and sharp words. He knew the consequences of caring too much, so he hadn’t drowned in the mirage of an impossible utopia, but instead had stumbled head over heels through the fallout of power and ended up in the cold arms of a ghost two thousand blocks away from the mirage his brother had fought so hard for. 

A week ago he would have laughed at himself for missing a place. He would have shaken his head and said, “It’s the people that matter.” Maybe he didn’t miss the place after all, maybe he was just heartbroken over the people not leaving the place. What good was being allowed visitors if the only ones who showed up came to mock you. 

He appreciated Ghostbur, he did, but when he asked Tommy what was wrong and the answer was always an event Wilbur couldn’t remember it was easy to feel alone. In L’Manberg there was always someone he could run to at 2am when the nightmares got too much or when the shadows grew horns. Logstedshire felt empty without Niki’s soothing hugs, Phil offering him a cup of nighty night tea, or Techno rummaging through his stuff as he cried. 

He let out a huff. 

It seemed by Dream stripping away everything Tommy cared about, Tommy suddenly found himself wanting moments back that he used to hate. Maybe he didn’t want to lose his sad memories. Maybe they meant something after all. 

A drop of lava splashing next to his hand shook him partially out of his thoughts. His vision which had been filled with sepia memories of L’Manberg had been replaced by the stark orange glow against the pulsing red walls. 

Everything in this dimension seemed to be alive. Everything but him. 

He glanced over his shoulder, but he space remained empty and the portal wasn’t making the telltale warping noise that signified incoming travelers. 

Growing up with two older brothers, three if you count Tubbo which Tommy currently didn’t, space had always been a carefully guarded posession, but now it seemed to mock him. He was too greedy too quickly. The moment he realized Wilbur had veered from the plan he should have gotten Phil or Techno or anyone.

He could have stopped this, he realized with a start. Wilbur was dead because of him. Tubbo was on his last life because of him. He was on his last life because of his own failings. One step forward could stop any other bad side effects of his existence. One step forward could save his friends' lives.

Tubbo wouldn’t even have to know. Dream and the others would lie, say he moved further away to save their own skins from judgement. Wilbur would forget Logstedshire. All of it. Techno might see through their explanations, but would settle if it meant an end to the wars. Phil would…

Tommy didn’t know how Phil would react. In truth, he didn’t want to think too hard about it. Emotions only seemed to complicate things anyways. 

With a sigh he pressed his hands to the burning rock and pushed himself up, no longer caring about the marks that were left singed into his palms. He toed the edge of the bridge and looked out over the dropoff. Dire consequences aside, the gentle lull of the liquid beneath him felt rather calming. 

He was so enraptured in the magma’s flow that he didn’t register the warping of the portal or the sound of approaching footsteps. It took a stern shove to his left shoulder for him to realize that Dream had returned.

“It’s not your time to die, Tommy.”

Tommy knew the words were meant to inspire hope in him. They were supposed to help him see that the future could brighten and that the holes in his world could be mended, but all that he could hear in the words was malice. 

This was his punishment and Dream was determined not to let him escape.

“It’s never my time.”

He didn’t mean to respond, but without thinking he had. He spilled vulnerable words from his lips to the man who had been the architect to his pain. But his words were the truther, whether he liked it or not. 

Death mocked him, forever too close to the ones he loved but never close enough to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the comma splices, punctuation is hard


End file.
